What's in a Name, Anyway?
by lilithtorch2
Summary: They say that if you know someone's name, you can hold power over them. Take Rumpelstiltskin, for example. A name pulled the veil away from the magic trick and revealed the mundane machinations underneath. A name meant that the mystery was over. But one name, in particular, held more power over Harley Quinn than she did over it. [Movie!Harley Quinn Origin Speculation]


They say that if you know someone's name, you can hold power over them. Take Rumpelstiltskin, for example. The Miller's daughter figured out his name and it sent him into such a fit that he split himself in two. A name pulled the veil away from the magic trick and revealed the mundane machinations underneath. A name meant that the mystery was over.

It was why no one ever knew the Joker's true name. Even the Joker himself had long forgotten the name he had been christened with. It was better this way; he was free from useless bonds and emotional connections and allowed to do whatever he wanted even with the Bat around. That's why she was Harley Quinn. You could break away from the confines of your past and start fresh. Go on crazy adventures.

But one name, in particular, held more power over her than she did over it.

Harley would always try to push that stupid name back into the recesses of her mind and focus on keeping her balance using the ribbons attached to her jail cell. Twist left, fall backward, lift up your hands. She'd imagine classical music playing in the background as she did so, hear the applause of the audience. She'd think she'd finally made it in life.

And just when she thought she had moved on, the name would whisper to her.

 _Jason. My name is Jason Todd._

It would have been easier if she hadn't known his name.

Capturing Robin was supposed to have been a victory over the Bat.

And for a time, it felt like it had been one.

One night, the Joker, in a fit of rage from having been defeated by the Bat yet again, seemed ready to beat her, like he was wont to do. She remembered bracing herself for impact until she saw his twisted eyes turn toward their captive and his toothy grin become wider.

Harley could still hear the sound of knuckle against bone and the cry that followed.

But she didn't stop the Joker then. Not yet. It had been a tremendous relief that she wasn't on the receiving end of the beatings. She simply laughed and laughed, just like good old Harley Quinn would do. Should do. She had laughed as the thugs tied up the man's wrists and hung him from the ceiling, like pork to be slaughtered. She was still laughing when the Joker branded the man's face with an iron shaped like the letter J. She was still laughing when the Joker told the boy that it had been six months; no one was coming to rescue him.

She just kept on laughing and laughing and laughing.

When the boy was branded with the letter J on his face, she gleefully celebrated with the Joker; this Robin was _theirs_ now, and not B-Man's. Theirs to play with.

But the more the Joker focused on Robin, the more she focused on herself and realized that to her lover, she was just damaged goods.

Red had been right; his attention was on another new and shiny object and she was completely forgotten. She blamed Robin at first, hitting him with her bat whenever Joker was outside in Gotham. She'd scream and claw at the man's face until she was too tired to do it. Her make-up would be smeared but she didn't care. She needed to kill Robin and have her puddin' focus on her again.

Yet with each hit, she'd feel her head throb and watch her vision become blurry.

To this day, Harley Quinn would never know if what happened afterward was the result of guilt or the desire for revenge against the Joker.

If she had actually known the reason, she probably wouldn't be here today.

All she knew was this:

When the Joker was not around, she began to give Robin small bites of food to eat. The young man would refuse at first, choosing to spit out the food, but when he realized that she had no intention of harming him any further, he began to accept her gifts.

She remembered the smirk he had weakly given her when she awkwardly cracked a joke.

The first time Robin told her his name was Jason, she supposed he just needed someone, anyone, to connect to. Stockholm Syndrome, that's probably what her psych teachers would have described it. But she had told him her true name as well, admitting finally that she was not just Harley Quinn, she was _Doctor_ Harleen Frances Quinzel, who'd gotten into Gotham State on a gymnastics scholarship and was practically the epitome of Elle Woods from Legally Blonde.

If she had to really think about her life, Harley had to admit that she didn't quite get the happy ending that Elle had.

In some small way, the acknowledgment of both of their names made her feel just a little better, just a little more whole.

But just when she remembered she was _Doctor_ Harleen Frances Quinzel, Jason was dragged away.

She was just Harley Quinn again.

She never saw Jason after that, although sometimes she'd think she see someone like him jumping over the rooftops.

She only remembered Jason screaming his name out to her in a desperate plea to have someone remember him long after he was gone.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel?"

A woman's voice interrupted her reverie, and Harley carefully lowered herself to the ground, telling herself to steady her breathing. She crawled closer to the edge her cell and clutched the bars tightly.

This was it, she thought, this was the end. It was time to face the music.

"Are you the devil?" Harley asked curiously. She took note of the guards around her cell and held her breath. She wanted to close her eyes, but she remembered Jason. He had fought against the Joker until the bitter end with his own eyes wide open. She clenched her fists and blinked back her fear, preparing for one last fight.

"All you need to know," the woman simply declared, "is that you work for me."


End file.
